


Sweetest Taboo

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Cock Rings, Dirty Talk, First Time, Frottage, Light BDSM, M/M, Needy Dean, POV Dean Winchester, Prostate Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere along the way, the lines between friendly touches and blatantly obvious intentions were blurred into nearly synonymous actions. And about a second after that was found to be fact, Castiel confronted him in the middle of the bunker’s kitchen with the casual observation, “you think about me when you masturbate.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetest Taboo

Somewhere along the way, the lines between friendly touches and blatantly obvious intentions were blurred into nearly synonymous actions. And about a second after that was found to be fact, Castiel confronted him in the middle of the bunker’s kitchen with the casual observation, “you think about me when you masturbate.”

Sam promptly choked on his coffee, and Dean, bless his heart, fell from his chair and bruised his tailbone. Where had he even come from in the _first_ place? He and Sam were finishing breakfast soundlessly, then – “Jesus _Christ_ , Cas!” Picking himself up off the floor with his face a shade of red he didn't think possible, he glared down the freshly materialized Angel while pointedly attempting to ignore the absolutely _thrilled_ gaze his brother was giving him. “You can’t just – How do you – what the _fuck_?”

“You’re awfully loud. I thought you needed help with a case, but you were in—.”

“You walked _in_ on me?”

“What were you doing with y—.”

In the background, Sam was leaning back in his metal chair, positively _gleaming_ at the turn of events. Wasn't he supposed to be _embarrassed_? Not reveling in his brother’s misery like a sadist. “Sam, _out_ ,” Dean pleaded with the most authority he could muster, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep himself from hiding behind his hands.

“No way,” his brother barked through a laugh. “The chance of a lifetime to watch you dig your head outta your ass? I’m not passing this up!”

If he seethed any harder, he would probably pass out and bruise _more_ than his ass. “Sam—.”

“Alright, alright.” He waved Dean off and rounded the table, adding, “Wouldn’t want you to bust a nut or anything!” before bolting from the room with Dean being restrained in his wake.

Even after the echo of footsteps ceased, he continued to struggle against Castiel’s hold on his forearm, eventually ripping out of his grasp and backing himself against a wall. It couldn't have been worse – then again, someone could be pointing at gun at him and forcing him to dispel secrets long since untold. And they would _stay_ that way too, as long as he had something to do with it.

Though give the way Castiel was studying him, his resolve wouldn't last much longer. “Of all the humans who’ve prayed to me,” the Angel started, taking a cautious step towards him, “yours are by far the most interesting. Did you really mean it when you said you wanted me inside you?”

Oh _God_ , of _course_ he heard _that_ part. “Can we not have this conversation right now?” he begged. “I _really_ don't wanna talk about… _that_ with an Angel.”

“But you deliberately invoke my name while you commit such acts.” Castiel stopped an inch before his bare toes, eyes flicking between his eyes and lips. All sorts of personal space violations were being made – and had his eyes always been that blue? “Surely you knew I could hear you?”

Admittedly, he hadn’t thought that far. “That doesn’t give you the—how long were you even in there, anyway?” The ‘long enough’ was insinuated heavily in Castiel’s expression. “Look, it’s…” He dragged a hand down his face in the hope it would at least _ease_ some of the awkward tension the Angel had created just by existing in their shared space. “It’s nothing, alright? People just… It’s something we _do_ to get off, okay?”

“But you could have thought of anyone.” Toes brushed soles; Castiel’s fingers tauntingly traced his outer thigh over the plushness of his robe. The bastard _knew_ what he was doing. “Instead you called out to me. Is that what you want, Dean?” Breath ghosted over his lips; if he shifted forwards, just a little, he could close the gap. He swallowed audibly. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Every initial thought in his mind screamed at him to shove Castiel away and tell him to fuck off, that he wasn't going to _put up_ with his crap, that he could fly back to wherever he came from if he was going to be that forward. That wasn't how he was raised – he wasn't gay. Entirely. Sure he’d given it thought over the years, wondered what the touch of another man would bring him, how it would feel to touch a cock that wasn't his own. How it would feel being fucked open and brought to the brink repeatedly. Just two hours ago, he had gotten his rocks off to the idea, two fingers curled into his prostate until he came and slid down the wall to the shower room floor.

He wondered if Castiel could see the marks the tiles left on his knees underneath the robe, when he fell while he watched. If he wanted to. All he had to do was pull the tie loose.

Castiel was still waiting for an answer – Dean gave it to him with a curt nod, before turning his eyes to the floor. That was enough to prompt the Angel to kiss him, heated and with enough tongue to draw him to moan softly as Castiel pulled away, relinquishing contact with a softer, more innocent peck to the corner of his mouth. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he murmured and unfastened the sash around his waist, letting it fall open to the chilled air of the room.

Whatever reply he wanted to make was subsumed into a hoarse gasp, Castiel’s wandering mouth doing _wonders_ to his neck, settling to suck a mark beneath his ear. “Everywhere,” he mumbled low, dragging his hand down the sleeve of the Angel’s coat, “want you everywhere.”

Castiel gave him an inquisitive look, _almost_ succeeding in distracting Dean long enough to run two fingers up the inside of his thigh and cup the straining bulge in his boxers, squeezing it lightly for emphasis. “Here would be the most direct method,” he said, mostly to himself. He _swore_ if he started describing the anatomy of his junk—. “But, I think we’ll start with this. Yes?”

Inwardly he thanked whoever was listening for not letting him _yelp_ when he felt Castiel wrap his arms around the back of his thighs, hoisting him up to press into the wall with his legs around his waist. The Angel’s prominent erection ground against his own once, twice – _shit_ , this was actually _happening_. And the thought only made him harder, a more than pathetic whine escaping. All the while Castiel watched him with reverence, eyes wide in awe. “Are you normally this responsive with other partners?”

The kiss to his jaw and subsequent nips down his throat had him squirming further up the wall, heels thumping the back of Castiel’s legs. _Fuck_ , did he want this – the thought alone was enough have him aching, but the real thing? Nothing could compare to the fire that burned through his veins, the unadulterated lust that had him shamelessly rutting against a fucking _Angel_. How depraved could he _get_? “N-Not particularly.”

“Is it because this vessel is male?” The whine he gave should have been answer enough. Castiel’s smirk widened against his skin. “You’ve never delved into this form of sin, have you, _Dean_?”

Whatever remained of his sanity told him not to moan – for Christ’s sakes, _Sam_ was in the other room, probably listening on in sadistic glee. And if Castiel would stop _sucking his neck_ , maybe he could still his heart rate and get his dick to stop making decisions for him. Instead he whimpered at a particularly hard bite, stuttering out, “fuck, _please_ , Cas,” before he could save himself the embarrassment.

“In time,” Castiel chuckled, lust tingeing his voice. “There are so many things I want to do to you, if you’re willing.” A peck to his lips. “Do you want me, Dean?”

He nodded hastily, eyes closed against the fluorescent kitchen lights. “Want it – want you.” Because there was no use _denying_ it when the guy was going to town with his hips. It would be a miracle if he didn't come in his underwear right there. “Please, Cas—.”

“Go to your room, strip and sit at the edge of the bed,” he whispered an octave lower, the sound eliciting shivers up his spine. _Oh fuck_. “Wait for me.”

Getting to his room was less of a feat than originally thought, given the urge to _run_ down the halls was taking higher priority over covering a rather impressive erection from anyone passing by. Sam and Kevin were God knows where else, giving him ample room to tread the floors barefoot, robe pulled tighter than necessary. Who knew if either one of them would decide to pop their head around a corner? Talk about a bone kill.

It wasn't the walk that would kill him – more likely, it would be the anticipation. Disposed of whatever little clothing he had, he sat atop the sheets with bated breath, fingers rapping his kneecaps absently. How long was he supposed to _wait_? Maybe the guy got called back to Heaven; wouldn't that be his luck? Torture by denial – if that was the case, it was working _damn_ well.

“You didn’t touch yourself.” Still after all those years, Castiel had the uncanny ability to have him jumping from just his voice. Or maybe it was the randomly appearing wherever and whenever he deemed fit thing, he couldn't tell which. Either way, the Angel was advancing on him, standing between parted knees and holding some metal contraption before his eyes. _Fuck_ , was that – “I’d like you to wear this.”

“What, did you lift a sex shop while you were out?” Who knew Cas had it in him to be a kinky son of a bitch? The amount of enthusiasm he exhibited should’ve been at least a _little_ shameful, taking the ring – a fucking _cock ring_ – and fastening it with nervous fingers around the base of his dick.

It was… _weird_ , now that realization dawned on him. There was he, buck-ass naked in front of his best friend, harder than he’d ever been in his life, and he _wanted_ it. He wanted those hands on him, all over him, taking advantage in a way he’d only given in the past, not taken. _Definitely_ not taken. Sure he’d experimented before, but that was sporadic in itself, time stolen away in hotel rooms with a bottle of lube and just his fingers. But the real thing – the real _thing_ , he couldn't imagine it. But he _needed_ , God did he _need_ this.

Castiel was still watching, tracing a lone finger across his collar, flitting down to stroke his nipple, pinching it enough to get it hard. Another pang of arousal had his toes curling, muttering a string of ‘fucks’ and ‘don’t stops,’ head thrown back in want. “What’re you gonna do t’me?”

 _Way to be the virgin, Winchester._ The Angel stroked a calm hand down his cheek before unceremoniously shoving him back into the sheets, legs hooked open at the knee. Pulling him flush to his own erection, Castiel leant over to breathe into his ear, “I’d like to see you beg for me.” Dean let out an obscene cry at the thought. “Work you open and keep you on the edge until you’re begging me to fuck your hole. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” Castiel chuckled mirthfully; Dean’s dick twitched in over-enthused interest, struggling to hold back the scream that was building in his throat. “How about I finger you open while you use that mouth of yours? Would you like that?”

Castiel was going to _kill him_. “Y-Yeah, Cas.”

“I didn’t quite hear you.” Shoving his legs open _wider_ , Castiel rubbed down onto his length, earning an uninhibited whine. “Answer me, Dean.”

“Yes— _fuck_ —Casti— _el_!”

And Castiel lurched up, leering down at his prone figure. “Keep your legs open, just like that. Can you do that for me?”

He could. He _would_ , for Cas. With his nod of consent, Castiel released his hold and rounded the bed to rummage through the bedside desk, coming back with the half-empty lube bottle, only to toss it onto the sheets, plastic rolling into his hip in the process. This was happening, this was actually _happening –_ Castiel was shrugging off that stupid coat and blazer before his eyes, placing the neatly folded items on the nearby desk. He rolled up his sleeves; that was more skin than he’d ever seen, well, aside from the whole ‘ _naked on my car_ ’ thing.

Though, the using his tie as a blindfold thing was new. The chill of cheap fabric cooled his overheated skin ever so slightly, leaving him oddly claustrophobic. “Has anyone ever taken their time to _touch_ you, Dean?” Castiel asked and – _oh God_ – ran his hand through the wetness pooling on his belly, smearing it up his chest, painting his _dick_ with it. More dribbled into his palm, the Angel wiping the excess on his thigh. “You’re not accustomed to being on the receiving end. You have no idea what _pleasure_ I can bring to you, do you?”

He actually _did_ whine that time, fingers twisted in the sheets in absolute agony. How long was he supposed to wait? Listening to Castiel speak his hidden desires was doing things to his libido that had never been done before, that and the finger skirting his hole, tracing the rim. “F-Fuck, Cas, do it—Fuckin’—,” he hissed in desperation. “Touch me—just—.”

“You’re getting there.” If he laughed _again_ … “You won’t come until I let you, correct?” Sightlessly he nodded and heard the cap of the bottle snap open. _Ohfuckohfuckohfuck—_. “Relax.”

It’d been a long while since he’d gotten the chance to do this to himself, given their increasing caseload and Heaven and Hell lurking around every corner. They’d gotten home minutes after midnight, and crashed in their respective bedrooms, dead to the world. And then _Castiel_ shows up at breakfast and decides to – “oh _fuck_ , keep doin’ that, Cas.” His spine bowed under the sudden pressure inside him, a single finger working his prostate in ways that had him struggling not to close his legs, the thumb to his perineum only kicking it up a notch. A _second_ , and he was a writhing mess, tremors working through his thighs and drawing out breathy gasps into the crook of his arm.

This was _heaven_.

“Wanna come,” Dean groaned through the assault; every nerve in his body begged him to reach down and get himself off and completely throw out Castiel’s rules and _come_ , he was so _close._ But the damn _ring_ was putting a stop to all of that. “Gonna—want you— _fuck_ —.”

“Use your words, Dean,” Castiel chided. And really _went_ for it – free hand splayed on his stomach, the Angel zeroed his fingers in on his prostate and just _rubbed_ , fast and hard, three fingers fucking his hole in earnest. “Do you want my cock?”

How was he supposed to _answer_ that when he could barely speak? He settled for an impatient nod and Castiel stopped, moving away from the bed. “Hands and knees. Don’t remove my tie.”

This wasn't how he had intended to spend his day, dealing with the sexual advances of a fucking _Angel_ and listening to him strip – he was getting _naked_ over there, _shit_ – but he was enjoying every second of it. If only he could see what he was _doing_.

He followed the dip in the bed and rolled over to crawl towards Castiel, the Angel tipping his chin up. No doubt he was smirking, based on the self-satisfied hum he gave. “So good for me.” Patting Dean’s cheek, he pressed two fingers to his lips and allowed him to lap at the digits, taking them into his mouth to the knuckle. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Dean actually _laughed_ around his fingers, pulling off with a slick pop. “You’re asking that now?” he jeered. “Dude, I wouldn't’ve let you finger my _ass_ if I wasn't. Where did you even learn how t’ _do_ that?”

Castiel made a noise in amusement. “I’ve had a while to think about this scenario, but I’ve found you very… obstinate in my advances.” The soft head of the Angel’s cock – _oh God it’s his dick_ – brushed across his lower lip; more than eagerly he lapped at the precum-slicked skin there, sucking the head ever so lightly, all with the knowledge that _he_ was watching. A hand carded through his hair, petting down to his shoulder blades. “If I had known you would enjoy it so much, I would have tried sooner.”

He quickly decided Castiel talked too much and took him by the hips, throwing himself into what he hoped would be the blowjob of a _lifetime_. It may not have had the most finesse for someone who couldn't exactly _see_ what he was doing, but he knew what he liked and employed it more than effectively. He focused his attentions at his head, licking across the slit with intent before swallowing back down, taking as much as he could without triggering the gag reflex he _knew_ was there. Even without sight, he _felt_ the girth; Castiel wasn’t exactly the smallest guy on the block. And he found himself wondering how it would feel inside him; different than his fingers, for _damn_ sure.

“Your thoughts are rather loud.” Castiel tapped his cheek and pulled him off, drawing him into his lap. Their kiss tasted of sweat and Angel and he wanted to _devour_ him. With a loose fist, Castiel stroked him in quick succession, earning twitches of hips and warm breath panting against his neck. “Tell me what you _want_ , Dean.”

 _I’d like to see you, for one thing_. Castiel obliged him and untied the knot behind his head, slipping the fabric free and revealing the dimly lit room around them. The Angel was leering at him, expression temporarily distracting him from the reach around that had him doubling over, gasping wetly against his cheek. “Wanna ride you,” he whined, “wanna ride your cock, feels so good—.”

Three fingers reignited the ever-present fire in his belly, coming embarrassingly close to jizzing all over the fist that was _still_ toying with him. “That’s not all,” Castiel remarked with a grin.

This was it; this was how he was going to _die_ , in bed getting his man cherry popped by an Angel of the fucking _Lord_. “W-Wanna come,” he bit out. “Want you to make me come, _Castiel_.”

Castiel purred before removing his fingers, fumbling for the abandoned lube bottle. “Would you prefer a condom, or no?”

Dean shook his head, face flushed in every shade of embarrassment possible. “Wanna feel you. Just you.”

“You’re so good, Dean. So good.” He drizzled a decent amount of lube onto precum-soaked fingers and slicked himself up, shifting down enough to where Dean could get comfortable. Pressing the head of his dick against his hole, he murmured, “open for me.”

If it weren’t for the _damn_ ring on him, he swore he would’ve lost it right there. The burn was expected as he sank down, but he hadn’t anticipated just how _big_ he felt, much wider than the fingers that had tortured him incessantly; the idea that they should’ve prepped him more came to mind. Maybe next time when he wasn’t moaning like a twenty-dollar whore, they would take it into consideration and actually _talk_ about what they were doing. Weren’t there things like safewords? What if he flipped out? Would Castiel even know what to—.

“Dean.” A palm to his heart snapped him to attention; Castiel was watching him, a softness in his eyes that stilled his thoughts. “We’ll talk later. Now, _move_.”

“Bossy,” Dean taunted before lifting his hips, effectively putting Castiel’s next statement out of existence with a downward thrust that had them both groaning. _Fuck_ , why hadn’t he been doing this all his life? How had he missed out on something that lit him up from the inside out? It took him a few lazy seconds to build a steady rhythm and a good angle, Castiel’s cock brushing against his prostate every few thrusts. “Reading my thoughts is gonna get you in trouble.”

Castiel growled in retaliation, gripping him by the hips and forcing him down _hard_ , grinding into that spot incessantly – Dean swore to every God in existence to just let him _come_. “It’s easier to know what you like, that way.” Freeing one hand, Castiel pulled him down for a kiss, matching Dean’s tempo thrust for thrust, a mess of slick noises and harsh pants mingling in the shared air between them. “How close are you?”

He swallowed, lips brushing lips with each moan. “Been close f’a while,” he panted. “Y’just gonna leave it on?”

“Make me come and I’ll take it off.” A sharp slap to his ass had him flushed red; he caught the glimmer of recognition in the Angel’s eyes. “You like that?”

Never in his life would he have expected to _admit_ he liked having his ass _spanked_ – might as well get it all out in the open now. Oh, this would be _fun_ in the future. “Again!”

Castiel indulged him on the opposite cheek; the sting only spurred him on, riding his dick like his very life depended on it. It might as well have, based on how much he was fucking _leaking_ all over the place, how close he was to _howling_. “Ah— _fuck_ , Cas, gotta let me—,” he swore into his chest, gripping the pillows by the Angel’s head. “Fuck, God, fuck, _fuck—_ fuck me Cas, fuck—!”

He didn't know why he was still surprised by anything the Angel did – though, rolling him onto his back without missing a beat was a new one. _Fuck, that’s hot_. “So wanton for me, Dean.” Hooking him open at the knee, he shoved Dean’s legs back towards his head, hips flush to hips, fucking into him with a determination he’d rarely seen from him. “You’re mine, remember that—.”

“Fuck, yours, _fuckfuckCasfuck_ —!” His orgasm rushed over him the second the Angel unlatched the ring, back bowed dangerously as white spilled across his chest in long spurts. Castiel chased the rush and gave half a dozen more thrusts before his body seized, a wordless cry sounding in his ears, warm wetness seeping into the deepest parts of him. And it was _awesome_.

Somewhere in the haze and Castiel stumbling off to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth, wearing _his_ robe, he had half the mind to be ashamed. He just let himself be talked into getting fucked by his best friend – arguably one of the best lays in his life, now that he thought about it – and he hadn’t even put up a _fight_. He wanted it, he consented – so _why_?

Castiel kissed away the concern written across his face as he cleaned the residue of their tryst away, tossing the rag to the floor carelessly. “You liked that,” he said in confirmation, no question implied. “Don’t deny yourself what you enjoy.”

He allowed himself to be drawn into an embrace, hiding his face under the Angel’s chin. How was he so _warm_? “I did,” he admitted silently. “Did you…?”

Castiel rubbed circles into his lower back, dragging slow lines up and down his spine every few seconds. “Every part of it. Every part of _you_ ,” he added. “You were good, Dean. Better than I’ve ever hoped.”

He grinned – he could accept that. “Could we… do that again? I mean, not now, but—.”

“Whenever you want.” Castiel pressed his lips to his forehead, a smile lingering there. “I’ll still be here.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes. “That’s… that’s good.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally got around to writing this after putting it off for a week. I'll probably start my new AU tomorrow or sometime soon, along with another oneshot. I got to go all out with the tagging system this time!
> 
> Title is from the Sade song.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/loversantiquity).


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